ENGLEWOOD, Fla. — A Trusted Mechanic, a Makeshift Weapon, and a Violent Betrayal at a Charlotte County Auto Shop – Article by McKinley G. Williams
Noone would have guessed in a million years what happened in Englewood… Why? …because Englewood is where heat shimmers off Placida Road and locals trade stories over coffee after morning errands… but news of violence tends to travel fast. But even longtime residents were startled by the arrest of Frederick Ciampi, owner of Lemon Bay Auto, after deputies say he attacked a customer with a makeshift pipe inside his own garage.
The Charlotte County Sheriff’s Office confirmed Ciampi was taken into custody on charges of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, a charge that paints only the broadest outline of what one victim describes as a shocking, sustained beating that left him bloodied, shaken, and betrayed by a man he once considered family.
Anthony Caruana, who brought his 2004 Lincoln Aviator into Ciampi’s shop on Tuesday, says the day began ordinarily enough. He’d been living out of the SUV with his dog—his only transportation, home, and lifeline—and brought it in for what he expected to be a straightforward transmission replacement.
But something, he says, went terribly wrong.
“When they put the new one in; the old sludge went into the new one and destroyed it,” Caruana told investigators. “When I brought it to his attention, he snapped.”
Anthony not only SNAPPED! HE LITERALLY TURNED INTO A BOWL OF RICE KRISPIES & SNAPPED, CRACKLED, & POPPED!!!!!!
WOW – What in the Hell was Fred thinking! Was he trying to get on a reality TV Show?
Caruana said he wasn’t arguing or raising his voice—just trying to understand what happened to the expensive transmission he’d paid for. He recalls Ciampi suddenly becoming agitated, pacing, then storming away. But Caruana didn’t believe he was in any danger. After all, this was Fred—someone he’d known for 20 years, someone he said he trusted more than virtually anyone else in his life.
According to the sheriff’s office, the moment that turned a customer complaint into a criminal investigation began when Caruana reached into his raised vehicle to retrieve a pack of cigarettes he’d left near the driver’s seat. The Aviator was still on the lift, leaving his belongings several feet above his head.
Caruana bent toward a nearby toolbox, searching for a pair of pliers to grip the cigarettes from the elevated interior.
He never saw Ciampi coming.
“It’s a makeshift pipe, it’s metal over wood,” Caruana recalled. “So it would be a half pipe on a piece of wood. While I was bent over trying to get the cigarette, and the pliers… I got hit in the head.”
The strike, he said, landed squarely at the back of his skull—an instant, stunning blow that sent him stumbling backward onto a tire machine. Before he could fully process the attack, he said Ciampi was on top of him, swinging again.
“He was on top of me, like really trying to get into my skull,” Caruana said. “I’m on the floor blocking, and then his worker came and pulled him off. He drops the weapon, runs in the back.”
The worker, unnamed in the report, may have prevented the attack from escalating into something far worse.
What makes the assault more devastating for Caruana is the history he shared with Ciampi.
“Fred was the only one who stood by my side,” he said. “So I was the only one that I trusted with my car. And you know, we became very close.”
He shook his head as he recounted the betrayal, still unable to reconcile years of friendship with the violence he endured.
“I made this guy like family to me. I was so blown away. I still don’t have anger with this guy. And he robbed me for $1,350.”
That money—his entire savings—had gone toward the transmission job. Now his SUV was disabled, the job incomplete, and his trust destroyed.
Caruana is left without transportation or shelter, stranded with his dog and the few belongings he carried with him. The injury, he says, is both physical and deeply personal.
When detectives questioned Ciampi, hoping to understand what led a mechanic to strike a longtime customer with a pipe, they described his answers as inconsistent, especially concerning whether he actually hit Caruana with the weapon.
Ciampi told investigators he acted in self-defense, claiming Caruana was hovering over mechanics and approached him with a wrench—an account that differed sharply from the victim’s statement, and from physical evidence at the scene.
One detail in the affidavit stood out prominently:
Investigators noted the location of the red mark on Caruana’s back. Ciampi is right-handed, and if he had struck Caruana while facing him—as his story suggested—the mark would likely have been on the victim’s right side.
It wasn’t.
“The victim had a red mark on the left side of his back,” the affidavit states, “which is inconsistent with Frederick’s statement. The injury to the victim’s back and head is consistent with being struck from behind and also consistent with the aggressor.”
These contradictions, paired with physical injuries and witness intervention, led deputies to determine Ciampi was the aggressor, not a man defending himself. In short, he is screwed.
On Placida Road, Lemon Bay Auto has long been one of those small, local shops that rely on reputation more than advertising. Regulars wave to each other. Cars sit out front for days, sometimes weeks. People talk about fishing conditions and the heat while waiting for their oil changes.
Now, the shop is at the center of a violent episode that residents say feels out of place for the normally quiet stretch of Charlotte County.
For Caruana, the community’s sympathy offers some comfort, but it doesn’t replace his car, his home, or the stability he briefly hoped he was rebuilding.
As for Ciampi, he now faces a felony charge that could result in prison time—all stemming from a few chaotic seconds inside a garage where trust, friendship, and a man’s livelihood collided with a crude weapon.
What remains is a disturbing question for everyone who knew the men involved:
How does a 20-year friendship end with one man on the ground, shielding his skull, and another fleeing to the back of a shop?
As investigators continue gathering evidence, one thing is certain:
This was more than a business dispute. It was a violent personal rupture—and its impact will ripple through Englewood for a long time.
